


It Wasn't You

by talesofbohemia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Suggestions of Non-Con previously, post 3x23
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 13:32:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1306663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talesofbohemia/pseuds/talesofbohemia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His smile is soft and warm but right before his fingertips graze her skin, a memory flashes in her mind, and she flinches.<br/>--<br/>After facing and destroying the Nogitsune in Eichen House, Lydia goes to visit Stiles in the hospital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Wasn't You

**Author's Note:**

> Well I wrote this in about an hour because I was bored and in need of Stydia. Basically how I would deal with Stiles and Lydia meeting again after 3x23. Not very proud of it, but I also know I won't be editing it so I might as well put it out instead of leaving it in my drafts. Enjoy.

He reaches up from his place on the hospital bed, moves his hand to rush her hair back behind her ear. His smile is soft and warm but right before his fingertips graze her skin, a memory flashes in her mind, and she flinches. He freezes, and a look of understanding crosses his face. His hand drops back to the hospital bed and he turns his head away, staring down at the thin white blanket.

Immediately she feels guilty. She’d reacted before logic could catch up with her. “Stiles- no wait- I’m sor-“

His head snaps back up and he stares at her. “You’re- you’re _sorry_? Lydia why- what the hell do _you_ have to be sorry for?” He just stares at her before dropping his head, anger contorting his face. Anger at himself.

“No, Stiles- I just- It’s okay, it’s all fine. _We’re_ fine.” Her voice is desperate, because she needs him to know this, needs him to know that she… she’s not really sure what, but this can’t happen, not now. That monster can’t destroy them even now that it’s gone.

“No we’re not!” He shouts at his lap. “ _You_ aren’t okay. I can’t believe that that- that _thing_ – did that to you.” His jaw works and he squeezes his eyes shut tight. “I know- I know this is extremely selfish to say, but I just – I need you to know that I would _never-_ that I would never hurt you – I couldn’t –“ He breaks off, unable to finish.

“Stiles,” she whispers and her voice is much too weak. She hates that thing for breaking her, for breaking them. “It wasn’t you,” she whispers. “ _I know_ it wasn’t you.”

“Maybe in your head,” he says with a bitter smile. It makes her angry.

“No.” The force of the word makes him look back up at her. “You know what, Stilinski? No. I just got you back and that thing is not going to take that away from me, and I’ll be _damned_ if you try to.” Her jaw clenches as she fumes, glaring down at him, daring him to question her.

He looks back up at her and his face is so full of this sad, broken love and it becomes hard to meet his gaze but she knows if she doesn’t he’ll never believe her.

After a moment, not breaking eye contact with him, she twists to sit down on the edge of the bed. His eyes widen, but he moves almost imperceptibly to make more room for her. Eyes still locked on his, she slowly takes both of his hands in hers. The moment their skin touches, her eyes fall closed as relief floods through her body.

He’s warm, and soft, and holds her hands like they’re the most precious things in the world, and it’s _nothing_ like his double. It’s Stiles.

She opens her eyes to find him watching her, a look of slight awe on his face. She wants to laugh, because the expression is so very Stiles and she never thought she’d see it again.

Instead she turns and slowly lies down on her side next to him. He turns to face her, pulls their clasped hand up between them, tilts his head down, and kisses them.

She lets out a shaky sigh and relaxes into the pillows. He brings his head back up and their eyes lock again. She leans toward him, drifting closer, closer. She only allows her eyes to fall closed when her forehead is finally resting on his.


End file.
